Annie did not die. The fever passed away in that long and refreshing
sleep, while Nan's cool hand lay against her cheek. She came slowly,
slowly back to life--to a fresh, a new, and a glad life. Hester, from
being her enemy, was now her dearest and warmest friend. Her father was
at home again, and she could no longer think or speak of herself as
lonely or sad. She recovered, and in future days reigned as a greater
favourite than ever at Lavender House. It is only fair to say that
Tiger never went back to the gipsies, but devoted himself first and
foremost to Annie, and then to the Captain, who pronounced him a capital
dog, and when he heard his story vowed he never would part with him.
Owing to Annie's illness, and to all the trouble and confusion which
immediately ensued, Mrs Willis did not give away her prizes at the
usual time; but when her scholars once more assembled at Lavender House
she astonished several of them by a few words.
"My dears," she said, standing in her accustomed place at the head of
the long school-room, "I intend now, before our first day of lessons
begins, to distribute those prizes which would have been yours, under
ordinary circumstances, on the twenty-first of June. The prizes will be
distributed during the afternoon recess: but here, and now, I wish to
say something about--and also to give away--the prize for English
composition. Six essays, all written with more or less care, have been
given to me to inspect. There are reasons which we need not now go into
which made it impossible to me to say anything in favour of a theme
called `The River,' written by my late pupil, Miss Russell: but I can
cordially praise a very nice historical sketch of Marie Antoinette, the
work of Hester Thornton. Mary Price has also written a study which
pleases me much, as it shows thought and even a little originality. The
remainder of the six essays simply reach an ordinary average. You will
be surprised therefore, my dears, to learn that I do not award the prize
to any of these themes, but rather to a seventh composition, which was
put into my hands yesterday by Miss Danesbury. It is crude and
unfinished, and doubtless but for her recent illness would have received
many corrections: but these few pages, which are called `A Lonely
Child,' drew tears from my eyes; crude as they are, they have the merit
of real originality. They are too morbid to read to you, girls, and I
sincerely trust and pray the young writer may never pen anything so sad
again. Such as they are, however, they rank first in the order of
merit, and the prize is hers. Annie, my dear, come forward."
Annie left her seat, and, amid the cheers of her companions, went up to
Mrs Willis, who placed a locket, attached to a slender gold chain,
round her neck; the locket contained a miniature of the head-mistress's
much-loved face.
"After all, think of our Annie Forest turning out clever, as well as
being the prettiest and dearest girl in the school I exclaimed several
or her companions."
"Only I do wish," added one, "that Mrs Willis had let us see the essay.
Annie, treasure, come here; tell us what the `Lonely Child' was about."
"I don't remember," answered Annie. "I don't know what loneliness means
now, so how can I describe it?"
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The End.